The Awesome Yellow Chick
by Reda
Summary: /gift-fic for Kairi/ - The story of Prussia and Gilbird, which means Prussian history in a nutshell: his ups, his downs, his friends, his enemies, his lovers, his rise into power and his fall...all from the point of a view of an awesome little yellow chick.


**Author Notes****:**

-Written for Kairi for being my 50th reviewer on One Season...AND for her birthday gift! Haha – yeah, I put two in one, so there. :P It's pretty research-extensive so, I reserve the right to do that. (This is really, really late. Her birthday is April 24th. Hah. School...Well, hopefully the length makes up for the lateness, hah)

-It's basically something from Gilbird's point of view...writing from a bird's point of view...now _that_ was a challenge.

-And when I mean "something", I mean Prussian history in a nutshell (in a teeny tiny, sometimes exaggerated nutshell). Ride with me as we follow Gilbird's point of view through Prussia's history - through Prussia's ups, his downs, his friends, his enemies, his lovers, his rise into power, and his fall... All from the point of view of a little awesome yellow chick.

-Technically, I didn't follow the prompt. It turned into something a little different, but it IS all from Gilbird's point of view. Shit, that was HARD!

**Prompt****:**

-a story from Gilbird's point of view in which Gilbird is actually in love with Prussia

~!~

The Awesome Yellow Chick

~!~

_Shortly after the year 1190..._

~!~

As a single, small yellow bird, he was not expected to be an animal companion for anyone of any great importance. The general idea was that he and his brothers and sisters would one by one be given away to children. As cute little pets, meant for love by children and nothing more. That was supposed to be his destiny.

He soon found himself alone in the world. All others of his flock disappeared one by one. Sometimes two by two. Or three by three. Or – well – you get the idea. He was alone. The only one left. The others died off to weather, humans, or other sad incidents. They were just small yellow chicks. Not a big deal. Animals died all the time.

Who would care?

He found himself living longer than a small yellow chick should be allowed to live. A strange genetic trait. Years went by. Decades. A century. More.

It was on some random afternoon day when he was bouncing aimlessly along a field of flowers, that the little yellow chick met the first human to notice him. "Hey, aren't your kind usually in groups?"

The bird stopped staring at the meadow grass beneath his feet and looked up, locking eyes with a strange red-eyed human. Humans couldn't have red eyes or such odd white hair, could they? He tilted his head, earning a chuckle from the strange looking human. Dressed in a knight's outfit with a cloak and a cross on his white uniform, but looking like a small child – which made him the one that was out of place, really.

"Don't worry. I'm alone, too." The human child grinned, even as he said something sad. "It's great to be alone, though!"

The yellow chick hopped closer, curious of this strange human boy. The human child was laying on his stomach, feet kicking at the air, elbows on the ground, and hands on his chin. The bird didn't know what else to do, so he merely tilted his head and watched the boy, who laughed.

"I wonder what your story is...do you wanna hear mine?" The laughing grin didn't seem to ever leave the boy's face. "It could take a while though."

The yellow chick chirped at him, finding that he liked the grin on this human child. It was nice to see someone happy. It was nice to have a smile facing him directly for once, too.

"Fine, I'll tell you a secret." The chick hopped closer as the human leaned down as if to whisper in the bird's ear. "I'm a nation all on my own. Well, I'm trying to be. Right now they just call me the Teutonic Order, but I'm awesome! And I'll be even awesomer one day! You'll see!"

Chirping back at him, the yellow chick tried to show his enthusiasm. He wasn't sure what to make of the words, but he liked the attention. The fact that someone was talking to him. Telling him secrets. And he really liked seeing that grin, especially when it turned into a high pitched laugh.

"You'll stay with me, right? I'll give you a name and everything – and you can be with me as I show the world my awesomeness!"

The yellow chick hopped, flapping his wings as he peeped out his agreement. Yes, yes, he would! He had been looking for someone to stay with – even if it was only for a little while. All his siblings had disappeared. Other birds had companions or humans to keep them company. But he had always been alone. So alone.

Until now. "Well, that's it then." The human – well, not _really_ human – child picked up a blade of grass and lightly touched it to one of the chick's shoulders, then the other. "I hearby dub thee Gilbird, the Awesome Yellow Chick, super awesome companion to Gilbert of the Teutonic Knights! That's _my_ awesome name, you know." The albino laughed again, and the chick reached out to grasp that blade of grass in one of his wings, awkwardly holding it like a human would a sword in one hand, chirping back. "Don't worry. One day, I'll be a real nation and I'll be the most awesome one ever. And you'll be right there with me, right?"

Gilbird nodded and chirped. "_Forever."_

The red-eyed child grinned at him as he stood up, but the yellow chick was pretty sure Gilbert could not understand him. Not yet at least.

~!~

_Sometime in the year 1211..._

~!~

Years later, Gilbird found himself nesting in the silvery white hair of the child. The child who had a similar defect to the yellow chick – living longer than his appearance suggested. When over ten years passed by without a change in the child's demeanor or physical appearance, the yellow chick had grown hopeful that he could indeed stay with this boy for all eternity. He was not certain about nations or orders or human titles, but he did know that this boy – this Gilbert of the Teutonic Knights – was exceedingly fun to be around.

Whether they were talking with older men who wore the same uniform as the red-eyed child, or terrorizing other human-like children that Gilbert referred to as nations or territories, the yellow chick soon learned all there was to know about the albino child he now called friend. There was always fun to be had, no matter the circumstance, and battles were the most fun.

So, when Gilbert got an order from Hungary – a child nation that the Knights tended to visit quite often. Or, at least Gilbert visited a lot. The two were trouble-making friends, causing problems together, and fixing them together, too. When Hungary – Gilbird was still not sure whether this child nation was a guy or girl, no matter that both Gilbert and Hungary insisted on the former – gave the Teutonic Knights an order to defend their lands from a Cuman attack, Gilbert was all but ecstatic to jump on board.

The awesome yellow chick hovered around the boy's shoulder, feeling his eagerness even as he worked to fit into the mood. There was one other thing he had learned about this albino child: he loved to fight. Loved it beyond anything Gilbird had ever seen before. Most humans went into battle and then ran. Most animals strayed as far as possible from human fights.

Not Gilbert of the Teutonic Knights. Though to be fair, his order did seem bent on crusading. Crusades. Converting people to some religion and fighting back the enemies of that same religion. That was how Gilbert described it, or at least how the yellow chick heard it. Religion was a human thing, a mortal thing, not a thing for a bird with unnatural long life.

Anyway, once an order was given to attack, to defend a land, Gilbert was suddenly louder than normal, and much more energized. The morale boost he gained was uncanny whenever he was told to put his battle skills to work.

Gilbird quickly learned to hold a pointy stick and imitate the over eager white haired red-eyed child. He soon learned that it was fun. As they fought off the Cumans (though technically, he did think Gilbert was hit by one too many arrows) and soon returned to Hungary, it was not a matter of whether or not they had successfully completed the mission. It was the fun they had while doing it.

After all, losing quickly became boring, and Gilbert was _never_ boring.

Besides, as a token of appreciation for his aid in battle, the yellow chick was rewarded with a small cape of his own. A white cloth tied around his neck with the symbol of the cross that all Teutonic Knights donned on their armor, shield, and capes.

"There, now you're _really_ one of us," Gilbert commented once they were in private quarters again.

The yellow chick tilted his head and peeped at him, trying to say how excited he was to belong to something. How excited he was to belong to some_one_. How much he enjoyed the albino's company. No words really made it out – even his own kind would have had difficulty understanding his chirps and squeaks – but the albino laughed and grinned and nodded, as if he _did_ understand.

And that...was all he wanted.

~!~

_In the year 1242..._

~!~

Gilbird shivered in the silvery white hair of the albino child. Still a child even after all these years. Still living. Still energetic and eager for battle. This time, though, Gilbird was beginning to question his master's sanity. First off, it was freezing. Secondly, they were on ice.

Though he supposed it was what Gilbert would do, being prone to act without thinking. Always jumping forward. Always ready to fight. No matter where or what the circumstances. No matter what time of year. What the temperature. Who he was fighting. Or what he was fighting on.

This time, a whole contingent of Teutonic Knights had been led out into the frozen lake. They were fighting on ice. Slipping and sliding but pressing forward all the same. Until there was a pause. A short break.

In which Gilbert sprang in front of all of them and started pointing his finger, laughing at the Russian lines. There was another child on the Russian side. Another child similar to Gilbert. He even had snowy white hair, though he actually seemed better dressed for this weather, as if Russia was quite used to the snow and the chill.

Of course, even the Russian child was trying to warn Gilbert about the ice. If it wasn't so cold, Gilbird might have been chirping at the albino, too. This was reckless. There were a lot of harebrained adventures that the yellow chick loved to follow the albino on, but this was pushing it. Did the Teutonic Knights really believe they could fight on the frozen lake for a prolonged period of time? It seemed crazy.

Gilbert wouldn't listen to the Russian of course.

And eventually, what they were all worried about came to pass. The ice under their feet started to crack. Both Gilbert and the Russian child froze, each of them knowing what was coming. The yellow chick chirped out a warning that came way too late and had to flap his wings to keep himself from falling into the freezing water with his hyperactive master.

As he flew in the air, he started to make circles around the new hole in the ice, worried, wondering what would happen if the albino child were to freeze to death. This weather certainly made it possible. Looking around, he could see several of the Knights fallen in the ice as well. Some still slipping and sliding as they started to retreat.

Tweeting loudly out of frustration and fear, Gilbird flapped his wings just above the cold water and then watched the Russian child grab Gilbert and pull him out, coughing and spitting up ice water. The yellow chick was about to breathe a sigh of relief and settle back in the white hair of his friend, knowing it would be cold but hoping it might be warmer than this chill wind.

But then Russia had his hands at Gilbert's neck and he was ranting. Ranting. Chiding. And choking Gilbert as he did it. There was fear in the red eyes as they stared back at the angry Russian child, the boy nation that seemed to have snapped, going on about how what Gilbert did was idiotic and reckless and how he almost died and...

Well, Gilbird decided right then and there that he did _not_ like this Russian child. Not at all.

But of course, that wasn't his first encounter with the boy nation – and it wouldn't be the last...

~!~

_In the year 1410..._

~!~

The yellow chick fluttered around the cold, damp fortress, hearing the sounds of groaning and hungry Teutonic Knights still left after the disastrous battle of Tannenberg. A name Gilbird could remember. He had not seen his albino friend looking so haunted as he did now. There were only so many names the chick could remember at one time; trying to remember every area, every nation, every territory, every village...that was impossible. But Tannenberg. He would remember. Because of what it had done to the happy child he had befriended and been with for two hundred years.

The usually excited, eager, and hyperactive child was sitting against the fortress outer wall, staring off into the distance but his usually bright red eyes seemed dull. Lifeless. Empty. Lost. Confused.

The child had grown over the past hundred or so years, but he was still young. Not an adult, not as tall or as brawny as the majority of Teutonic Knights around him. Instead of a small child, though, he was like a human teenager that had yet to hit his growth spurt. The white hair was still gleaming in the firelight. The red eyes were still stark and strange amid the pale face. But the usual brightness. The usual spurt of life...

...it was missing.

Chirping curiously, Gilbird hopped his way over to the albino he had befriended, landing on an upright knee and looking up into the distant red eyes.

The child representative of the Teutonic Knights blinked and looked down at the yellow chick, but the common grin was still no where to be found. "I don't want to die..."

Chirping again, Gilbird hopped on the knee, ruffling his feathers a little at the very thought. _"Die?"_

And from the outside, far from outside the fortress walls, came the loud shout of one of the inhuman nation characters. One of those who held the title of nation when Gilbert was still left without one. "Like, you should totally surrender and come out! You've, like, already lost this one!"

The albino grimaced, as if the very voice was enough to set him in a depressed mood. Depressed. Since when was Gilbert depressed? Tilting his head, Gilbird insisted on his question again. He did not know how this nation thing worked; he did not know why someone so human like would not actually be human. Or how they lived for so long. Or how connected to the land or the people they were. Gilbird was a bird. He only understood that his only friend was currently doubting himself, something the albino had never done before.

"I got beat by _him_. It's _not_ awesome. I didn't even get to be a nation – I don't have a nation name like theirs. _They_ get to be nations and I don't!"

A name. He wanted a name. Gilbird did not understand the meaning of why, but he wanted to make his friend happy. He wanted to see that hyper, confident grin; he wanted to bring the albino back to life. If all he had to do was find a name, then he could do that much.

Tweeting something unintelligible, the yellow chick flew up and left Gilbert on the ground. He would be back. He had to find a name. But not just any name. Something special. Something awesome. Something worthy of the strange albino he had discovered and been following for years now.

At some point, the chick found a map on a table. He fluttered around a group of men making tactical calls and decisions. Usually Gilbert was among them, though he wasn't one to actually hand out battle ideas beyond 'kick their ass.' Still, seeing the map, the yellow chick saw the names of Poland and Lithuania and several other names. Those two he knew. Those two had been tormenting Gilbert for the past couple days.

There were other marks on the map, circles and dots and figures marking troops or outposts. Gilbird wasn't sure. He was a bird. He cared nothing for the workings of men. But a name did pop out at him. Most of the land that the Teutonic Knights had conquered and lived in and basically claimed as their own once belonged to another people – but the knights were so interwoven with the natives that it might...

Gilbird did not understand names. Or nations. Or Orders. Or territories. Or villages.

But one name stood out to him and he brought it back to his closest friend. The white haired red-eyed young teenager glanced up at his fluttering form and blinked. "What?"

After all these years together, Gilbert was only able to understand so much of the chick's words. Not everything made it through the language barrier. Not everything made it through but gestures usually helped. Names were a different matter. How did he communicate a name? What were the chances that the albino would understand him? After so long of being together, there was only so much he had come to expect of the Teutonic Knight, but this was important.

Very important. He had to bring life back to his friend.

So he repeated the name, over and over and over and over...until the red eyes lit up and the grin spread across that pale face. "Prussia?" Gilbert said, laughing, the grin reaching all the way to those gleaming red eyes. "Sounds awesome."

~!~

_Skip to the year 1740..._

~!~

For the last three hundred years, Gilbird watched the albino child claim a name, claim a nation, and slowly grow up from child to teenager to young adult. The red eyes grew darker and more focused, growing as his nation grew. Nation. Prussia. The yellow chick really had helped his friend become something special. Giving him a name really did help him to survive.

All the technical details were lost on Gilbird. He simply cared to make his close friend survive. Make him happy. Everything Gilbird did eventually became centered on pleasing Prussia and making sure Prussia would always survive, always stay awesome.

The nation gained other land. The Teutonic Knights all but disappeared in the history books, still existing but not in the same capacity as before. No, now there was another name, a greater name, a more awesome name for Gilbert to go by.

Prussia.

Gilbird had watched this man grow up, had stood by his side as the nation gained land throughout the years. Land was a big deal to nations. Gilbird did not understand why but he had learned of this particular obsession early on. In recent years, the yellow chick had watched something else grow. While the nation's military grew stronger, Prussia also grew stronger. While the nation's military grew more precise, more well-trained, closer to perfection, Prussia did the same. But this great military was never used, the one who built it up seeming afraid to actually risk all that hard work.

Eventually, though, life turned and someone came to power who _would_ use Prussia's power to leave a stronger mark on European history. It was time to let the world know of Prussia's awesomeness – or at least that was Gilbert's explanation for their current movements.

The yellow chick sat in the nation's hat, wondering why Prussia had to cover up his white hair whenever they were out, but he accepted it as some detail that he'd never understand completely, seeing as he was just a bird. Still, he went into battle with his best friend. He went everywhere with his best friend. Even if Gilbird was bored and falling asleep among the folds of the hat, he still stayed by Prussia's side no matter what – unless sent on a specific special mission of his own.

"Does he follow you everywhere?" The question came from Prussia's latest King – Frederick II – or as Prussia called him: Fritz.

Gilbird ruffled his feathers and shifted slightly in his position in the hat until he could look out not at the land everyone seemed to be surveying, but instead he looked at this king, this human who Gilbert seemed glued to so often these days. Fritz was looking over at him with a light smile, sitting on his horse and looking oh-so-much like a king. The yellow chick was not sure what to make of this human besides the fact that Prussia acted strange – different – around him.

"Pretty much, yeah," Prussia was saying as an answer. "He's been with me for as long as I can remember."

Fritz raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how long is that?"

Prussia shifted his position on his own horse, acting embarrassed. "I don't really remember. Even _my_ childhood memories come in mere flashes and mostly unimportant moments."

There was a part of the yellow chick that was sad, but Gilbird knew that his friend was only telling the truth. It was very, very rare to hear Prussia lie. He was a straight-forward type. Conceited. Over confident. And a little too hung up on his own awesomeness. But honest. Gilbird liked that about his friend, his master, his forever-companion.

Fritz seemed surprised. "Oh? I would think as a nation you could remember everything in your past."

"Ah, well, it's more complicated than that. We don't have very clear cut beginnings like you humans. My childhood deals more with the Teutonic Order, so it goes back even further than Prussia's history." The albino was rambling. Embarrassed. Flustered. Being around this king always set off some strange mannerisms. "And while I can remember _some_ events, they're usually the major ones that humans recall. As sad as it may seem, it's difficult to pin point when I actually met Gilbird here, seeing as most mortals aren't going to care about a yellow chick."

Gilbird fluffed his feathers and tweeted some upset sounding nonsense toward his friend.

Prussia laughed, understanding. He understood a lot nowadays. "But, hey, he is as awesome as me so maybe when the rest of the world finally realizes my awesomeness they'll recognize Gilbird, too."

As pleased as the comment made him feel, the awesome yellow chick knew it was simply words. Especially because Fritz was shaking his head, though there was a light smile on his face. At the very idea of humans remembering a small yellow bird? Most didn't believe nations were manifest in human-like beings such as Prussia and the others. Even if Prussia did get remembered, did get his awesomeness spread and known throughout the world, the rumors would certainly never include Gilbird.

But he was content with such a life. An animal companion was usually forgotten. Forgotten by all but his own master, of course.

~!~

_In the year 1762_

~!~

The wind bit into Gilbird's feathers as he sought shelter inside the warmth of Prussia's uniform. The Russian stood nearby and was walking closer. Cold always seemed to follow that one. At least they were not fighting on ice this time. Gilbird would have been shouting obscenities at Prussia if he had dared try something so foolish again.

"We are to be allies now," Ivan said when he was close enough.

Gilbert seemed to tense, every bone in his body on edge, ready to spring. But he held his ground and grit his teeth. Like he always did. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Russia just smiled back. "Ah, but your king certainly does."

When Ivan nodded to a place beyond Prussia's shoulder, Gilbird shivered from his little cubbyhole of hiding within the uniform jacket folds. He could feel his albino friend do the same. Fritz was ecstatic about Russia's allegiance switch. They had been barely hanging on in this war, barely surviving, and the timely death of Russia's previous ruler led to an alliance that would change the whole outcome. It was almost as if fate were on Prussia's side.

...besides the fact that Gilbert did not want this at all...

The yellow chick could feel his friend swallow and turn back to Russia, a slight tremor in his voice. "It doesn't mean anything. I still don't -"

"It is not final, Gilbert." Ivan murmured, his voice barely carrying on the wind.

Gilbird did not really understand why this sentence was a big deal, why it made his master choke on his words, why it made him seem to shrink back from the too-close Russian. The two were alone in this area of the city. Alone. No one watching. Everyone was much more focused on the ones who would be making this alliance official – in the eyes of the mortals. Little did the humans know what the nations themselves had to do for such things to be strong enough for war.

"He wouldn't agree to this if he knew -"

"But then your chances for success would greatly diminish, _Prussiyah_." Ivan was still smiling. The wind blowing at his scarf. "I am surprised he does not know of our ways. You have made alliances before, da?"

Gilbird could almost imagine the pale face turning paler. The truth of the matter was: Fritz _did_ know what nations would do to consummate an alliance. There had been arguments and fighting and so much misunderstanding before because of the sexual customs among the nations. Now that Gilbird knew what they were talking about, he understood, too. Ivan was calling on a long standing tradition among their kind. Threatening to shatter the alliance if Prussia did not consent.

"I still don't -"

Russia interrupted again, "He does not need to know."

To which Prussia finally snapped at him. "_Verdammt_, don't say that like you're offering a kindness! You sick bastard, I refuse to -"

Lightning fast, Ivan's hand moved and wrapped around Prussia's throat, cutting off the albino's words, choking. So similar to all those years ago. Gilbird shook among the folds of the uniform jacket and pulled himself out, flapping his wings and spouting off at the Russian, who only ignored him.

"If you do not give, _Prussiyah_," Ivan whispered, his voice low but resonating. "I will take." A little flick of the eyes back toward Fritz and the humans brought meaning to his words.

The hand dropped. Gilbird settled into the loose white hair of his albino master, still chirping a few obscene phrases at the Russian even as he made himself comfortable among the strands of white. Prussia coughed a little into his hand, and then stood up straight, glaring back at Ivan. Gilbird saw the fists shaking as his friend and master worked to contain his frustration and anger.

And then there was a long, dejected sigh. "I fucking hate you."

To which Russia only smiled. "One day, you will learn to love me, _da?_"

~!~

_And then in 1871_

~!~

Gilbird sat in Prussia's hair once again; it was fast becoming his favorite spot. An excellent roost. He could easily get comfortable among the white strands, and it did remind him of a bird's nest from time to time. This time they were standing on a hill, or, rather, Prussia was standing on a hill. Little Ludwig was with them, and they had removed themselves from the group of humans they had traveled alongside.

Chirping curiously, Gilbird got a quiet shush from his albino friend, and he had his answer, too. Prussia wanted to speak to Ludwig. Something important, too, if he had asked Gilbird to be quiet. Not that he had explained anything to the awesome yellow chick. Not this time.

No, it was going to be a surprise for both of them.

Ludwig yawned as he stood next to Gilbert, hardly looking down into the countryside below. "Why'd you have to wake me up so early, _bruder_?"

Prussia snorted. "This isn't early."

"Sun's not up, yet."

Still, Gilbert laughed, putting hands on either of Ludwig's shoulders and standing behind him, facing the child toward the countryside. "Fritz used to get up way earlier than this."

The German brother huffed, clearly not pleased with that answer, like he'd heard the name used against him several times before. "Well, that's _you_ and _your_ king. Doesn't mean I have to be the same way." More whining and yawning. "Really, _bruder_, I'm tired. Why did you bring me out here so early?"

At the unintentional insult of separation Ludwig set between himself and Prussia, Gilbird could feel his master rush through a tide of emotions. Their bond was strange and had grown stranger over the years. Even as a yellow bird, he could sometimes feel and know exactly what Prussia was thinking or experiencing. He could find him when he was lost – or when Gilbird was lost – or when he was sent on messages and had to find his friend again. And the awesome yellow chick could tell that the casual push against Prussia and Fritz resonated hard with Gilbert.

Still, his albino master let it slide. The child was young, and he had a point. "Just wait. Watch the sun come up with me." Seeing as the sun was doing no such thing, yet, Prussia dropped his grip on Ludwig's shoulders and flopped down on the grassy hillside, lying back to stare at the sky.

At the movement, Gilbird was forced out of his comfortable spot in his friend's hair, so he took to the air and started chirping at him, showing his annoyance at having to move. Prussia just laughed at him and mumbled some playful insult while his hands went behind his head and his grin spread across his face. Seeing his master happy, Gilbird settled down shortly and decided to curl up on Prussia's chest instead.

The uniform had changed a little over the years, as it always did, but Prussia still liked to wear his military uniforms no matter what the color or design. Though he still kept the one from his days with Fritz, having a strong attachment to the past monarch. Gilbird didn't much care. He preferred sleeping in the white hair more than any clothing choices Gilbert had chosen as of yet.

Little Ludwig yawned loudly again, but before the boy could make another comment, one of the humans decided to walk up to the pair. Otto von Bismarck. A stern expression and a full mustache. Hard, calculating eyes. Everything about him was so _different_ from Fritz, and yet this man had done as much for Prussia – or much for the German states – as Fritz had. He wasn't near as popular, though.

Even as a bird, Gilbird knew that much. Gilbert tolerated the man more than he liked him. And when Bismarck walked up to them, Gilbert shot him a strange look. Whereas little Ludwig positively beamed at him. Of course, it would make sense for Ludwig to like the guy, wouldn't it? The German states seemed to like Bismarck more than most of the Prussians – or at least those in the Prussian court – did.

Bismarck walked right up to Ludwig, putting a hand on the boy's head, and smiling kindly down at him, getting a little laugh in return. Gilbird watched, knowing Prussia was glaring with jealous eyes. He could _feel_ the envy from his master. "Aren't you a tad young to be awake at this hour?"

Blonde haired, blue-eyed Ludwig yawned again, putting a hand to his mouth to cover it up, and he nodded toward Prussia. "He made me."

An odd looked crossed Bismarck's face as he turned attention to the albino nation. Gilbird felt his master sitting up, so he flew up in the air and settled in the white hair again, noting that Bismarck's eyes followed his movements almost curiously.

"Ah, Prussia," Bismarck said, meeting the eyes of the red-eyed albino in an almost challenging stance.

Calling Gilbert by his nation name – something Otto von Bismarck almost always did – made the nation shiver as if he could feel the power rush all the way down his spine. It was something Prussia had once explained to Gilbird. A nation thing. A connection with their people. If someone knew who they were and had enough power or influence in the land, they could be made to do things – the worst crimes had been committed by orders from monarchs, of course, but others had certain powers, too. It was a reason a lot of nations were starting to build up ideas of hiding their identities. Normal humans were getting to be cunning. Political power was tipping and not having a monarch was beginning to make wider groups of humans have enough power to order some pretty crazy things.

"Bismarck," Prussia spat the name back at him in the same manner, almost like he wished he could have similar power and control.

Not that Bismarck was a terrible person. Just that Ludwig seemed to like the guy a little too much for Prussia's tastes. As if the albino nation was jealous. As if Gilbert wanted the boy all to himself. It meant that Bismarck and Prussia did not have the greatest of relationships, no matter the great things the man was doing for the nation.

"Will the unification be a good thing in the long run?"

Gilbird ruffled his feathers. Bismarck was always asking Prussia questions like that. As a nation, Gilbert was used to it, but apparently he was getting tired of it. "Why do you always ask me such things? Can't you just learn some things from experience?"

Here, Bismarck frowned, glanced to the boy beside him, and then to the countryside beyond the hillside. "Fools learn from experience. I prefer to learn from the experience of others."

Prussia grunted in a response, but he never did answer the question.

Ludwig broke the conversation with an innocent comment of his own. "I feel funny."

Immediately, Prussia was on his feet, brushing past Bismarck and walking Ludwig over to the edge of the hill. Gilbird watched from the strands of white as his master gestured out at the countryside, as the sun slowly crept onto the horizon and began to touch the land, lighting it up little by little. "That," Prussia said. "Is your kingdom."

"Mine?" Ludwig muttered, a hand rubbing at his chest, as if he could feel something different near his heart or had an itch that wouldn't leave him alone.

Prussia nodded and laughed lightly. "Yeah. All yours. All the German states are unified now. They're calling it Germany. That's you."

Ludwig gasped, then turned to his brother and tackled him in a hug, only to look up. Gilbird chirped once and tilted his head, curious as to why the boy looked worried. "But...what about you? Isn't Prussia a German state?"

"Yes it is," Gilbert said, a hand ruffling the blond hair. "But don't worry. I'm awesome. I won't go disappearing on you. Not until I know you can handle this kingdom on your own, ja?"

"_Disappear?"_ Gilbird peeped. Did Prussia know something he wasn't sharing? Would there come a day when they wouldn't be together anymore?

After all this time...was it really possible for it to come to an end?

~!~

_Early 1941_

~!~

With Prussia essentially dissolved as merely a part of Germany, Gilbird fretted every so often about the supposed disappearance of his current master. There was no telling how long either one of them would live, and now there was no longer a strong nation holding Prussia up. He was in a similar state to what he had been in the Teutonic days – more of a state or representing a group of people than actually any real nation.

But he had given the kingdom to Germany. To the little brother. Looking from Gilbert's hair, the awesome yellow chick still felt surprised when he saw how Ludwig had grown. The blond haired, blue-eyed German now towered over his older brother and he was built like a truck, making Prussia look scrawny in comparison.

The youthful innocence in those blue eyes was gone, too, especially now. This war was wearing on him, turning not-so-little Ludwig into a hard, uncaring soldier who merely followed the orders of his Boss. No arguments about the atrocities going on behind the scenes. No defiance. It was as if Germany did not know what he himself believed in anymore, and Gilbird could tell it was worrying Prussia.

In fact, some of the strange obsession of the people was also affecting Prussia, but in a different way. Gilbird could feel the unease, the trepidation, and in the back of everything the feeling like Gilbert was holding back some monster of his own.

"West, what are you doing?" Prussia stated, standing up to his taller brother, making a scene only once the brothers were alone.

Once, Gilbert had made a scene in front of Germany's latest Boss. Adolf Hitler had not liked Prussia's defiance; in fact, he had glared with such hatred, even Gilbird had been worried. Nation or no, would Hilter really strike out against Prussia? Not that he could be killed – except the possibility was there considering Prussia was no longer technically his own nation. Of course, Ludwig had made some comment, something about the albinism Gilbert was born with, the white hair and red eyes that set him apart from the master race Hitler had pushed the country to accept as the only true German.

After that, Gilbert no longer made any scenes in front of Hilter. Instead, he confronted Ludwig when they were alone. Like he was doing now. Gilbird sat in the white hair and fluffed his feathers, knowing that Prussia was not happy with the way things were going.

When Ludwig didn't answer, Prussia pressed on. "You're bombing the shit out of Arthur – his _civilians_ are dying, West."

"So?"

Even the awesome yellow chick tensed at the response. To imagine the cute little boy had grown up to this hard man. Focused only on following his orders. Gilbird could tell, Prussia was not pleased.

"That's fucked up! You're killing your _own_ civilians, too! What the hell are you _doing_?" Gilbert was up and slamming his hands on the table in the room, like he wanted to slap sense into his brother but knew the gesture would be useless.

For his part, Ludwig did not face Prussia; he was more focused on pulling things out to make tonight's supper. Always focused on what needed to be done. Precise. Punctual. An optimal soldier. He rarely questioned his leaders; he simply did as he was told – something Prussia had never been very good at. Something that set Prussia apart from other nations.

Gilbird peeped sadly when Ludwig yet again did not answer. Prussia's hands clenched. "_Verdammt_, Ludwig. All this and now you're talking of starting a campaign against Russia?"

"-The Soviet Union," Ludwig corrected lightly.

Prussia snorted. "Same thing. That bastard is gonna be over there. Are you honestly going to challenge _him_?"

"No," Germany said, his voice calm. "You are."

At that, Gilbird could feel his master freeze, could hear his breath catch. "What?"

Still working on the food, Ludwig's voice and expression hardly changed; his back remained to Prussia. "You're going to the Eastern front."

A moment of stunned silence passed as Prussia slowly found his seat and his voice. "You mean you let them convince you to send me away? Exiling me to the east?"

Finally, Ludwig turned around, a frown on his face. "No one said anything about exile."

"But that's what it is, isn't it? The filth your boss spreads to the masses is finally affecting you; there's no way he'd convince you to send me to a camp, but oh – send me to fight Russia by myself, that's perfectly all right."

"_Bruder_..."

"Fuck you, West. You hear me? Fuck. You."

~!~

_Afterwards, in 1947_

~!~

Gilbird sat on his shoulder this time. Peeping quietly, he sat on the shoulder of the Prussian albino as Gilbert walked into the meeting room with heavy footsteps. Ever since the surrender, Prussia had been in a strange, sad state. Since before, even, but worse now. The war was over but Gilbert was heavily wounded, covered in bandages wrapped around healing wounds and broken bones that were taking longer than normal to reset.

A nation always recovered. And usually they were quick about it.

But Gilbert wasn't. It had the awesome yellow chick worried. He would talk to Prussia and receive no response. Sometimes Gilbert would turn to look at him and offer a short smile, but it was lacking the normal gleam, the normal light-up-the-room ability.

Prussia walked into the meeting room, a room in some building that actually used to be more than the only building standing on this street in this German city. Gilbird didn't know the details behind it. He was sure that Prussia did, but as a bird he was not bothered by such small details. The building was here. Others were not. The war had destroyed several architectural works.

A lot of old Prussian cities and towns had become ruins. The Eastern front had not been kind to Gilbert, as predicted. But he was here now. He was here. Alive. Still surviving. Harder than ever before. Something big was coming. Gilbird could feel it. Last time – the last world war – the winners had blamed Prussia, blamed Germany but they had started to strip things away from Prussia at that point.

This time it was sure to be even worse.

Once they walked inside, Prussia's head flicked around, his eyes picking up the details even as Gilbird glazed over them. The war had affected them all. Every last one looked worse off than he remembered. Not-so-little Ludwig was sitting in a chair against the wall, separated from the rest, his head down, his composure broken though the tears of regret and frustration that had become a common occurrence recently were currently absent.

Arthur Kirkland – England – the United Kingdom – he stood in front of a large table in the center of the room. Facing Prussia. His arms crossed. His eyes haunted but his eyebrows drawn down, his face serious. His uniform was frayed, having been through a lot; he had his own wounds but most of them seemed to be mental, if the glaze in those green eyes was any indication.

Behind him, America and France sat at the table. It was a wonder America was letting England stand in charge. From what Gilbird knew of the hyper American, he seemed to be the proclaimed hero, the one who insisted on taking charge in such meetings. Even his eyes were haunted, and there was a strange smile that kept twitching across his face. If Gilbird had known more details, he would have understood that Japan's current absence was because of this American.

France's uniform was the only one looking nice, but Prussia had once snidely commented that Francis must have thousands of outfits of the same type just to be sure he was always in prime condition. His face was drawn, though, and he looked as exhausted if not more so than Prussia seemed. Hungry. Tired.

They all were. This war had taken its toll on all of them. And these were only the major nations.

Russia sat next to France, smiling, cheerful. His presence made Prussia tense, but Gilbert didn't hesitate. Whereas the yellow chick knew the Russian had to have been just as hurt as anyone else, Ivan did not show it. His eyes were the same cheery, calculating gaze as always; his smile was dripping with double meanings. Creepy in its very innocence.

England's voice broke the silence as Prussia's steps came to a halt in front of the table, like a criminal ready to receive judgment – and that's how the winners saw it, though Gilbird did not see how. "Have a seat, Gilbert."

Prussia shook his head and Gilbird thought it strange that another nation, even one such as England who had once been friends with Prussia, would switch to calling the other nation by his human name. In this situation. So early. The yellow chick was accustomed to hearing nation names in such meetings, official capacities. So why the human name?

At Prussia's refusal to sit, England blinked and gaped as if shocked. "No, Gilbert, take a seat."

Once again, Prussia shook his head. Gilbird chirped curiously but of course his master did not respond.

This time, England's teeth clashed against each other. "Sit down, Gil, or by god I'll force you in that chair."

"Don't call me that," Prussia snapped; his eyes met the British nation's and then Gilbert did what Gilbird never thought he would see first hand – he gave in – he sat down without another word.

Russia absolutely had a giggling fit. "Oh, _Prussiyah_, you are not going to be happy about our decision at all."

Seeing as one approach hadn't worked, Prussia slouched back in the chair and glared at them all, taking the apathetic route instead. "Can we just get this over with?"

From the edge of the room, Germany flinched. Gilbird would have tweeted something to his master, but Arthur, England, was talking again. "The council has made a decision, Gilbert, as to the status of your nation."

"My what?" Prussia's voice sounded harsh as he suddenly sat up, the shoulder Gilbird rested on growing tense.

With a sigh, Arthur reached around to the table and pulled a document out, glancing at it before handing it over to Prussia. "Our Bosses have written this and it is currently being signed. Any moment now you will be feeling the effects."

The voice was so deadpan. So. Emotionless. Like England just didn't care anymore. As if everything worth fighting for had already been taken, destroyed, or pushed aside. As if he was too exhausted, as if he was dealing with a people who still craved revenge, dealing with multiple emotions like Gilbert had once explained. The curse of being a nation. Your own opinion didn't mean near as much as the people's, especially when sentiments were a strong majority.

Chirping curiously from Prussia's shoulder, Gilbird still received no comment as his master took the document and began to read. Looking up, the yellow chick watched as his friend's pale face seemed to grow paler, as his eyes widened, as his breath started to come in faster pants and his hands trembled.

"_What is it? What are they doing?"_

"They're -" Prussia gulped, dropping the paper and standing up, pointing an accusatory finger at the Allied Council. "You can't do that! You can't just write me off like that! It doesn't – it can't – that's not how it works!"

"Sit down, Gilbert." Arthur said, his voice like a weakened sigh.

"No I will not sit down!" Prussia exclaimed, moving to the table, slamming a fist against the wood as he stared at each member in turn, making Francis especially flinch away from his gaze. "You can't _do_ this. Nations are created and lost by wars - not bureaucratic documents! You can't just declare me -"

Gilbert's voice cut off suddenly in a harsh gasp and he stumbled so bad, the awesome yellow chick was shaken from his shoulder. Fluttering in the air, Gilbird watched as Arthur helped the trembling, stumbling, shaking albino back to the chair. From this vantage point, he could see the pain behind the mask. Francis may have been visibly upset. But Arthur had thrown up a common mask to meet this moment head on. Still, they were pained by it; deep down, they didn't want this either.

As Prussia was forced back into his chair, Gilbird could see that the red eyes had closed and the man was twitching every so often, a hand clawing at his chest. The once proud nation was slumped back against the chair in this makeshift meeting room, clenching his teeth so that whatever pain he felt wouldn't be heard by all those present. Gilbird could feel it, though. Prussia was fighting something, something terrible. The yellow chick flew over to the albino, settling on his leg and looking up, worried and watchful.

And then Russia's voice entered the moment. "_Prussiyah_ will no longer exist as a nation. As the leaders sign, you will feel the life of your people leaving you, and your little brother will gain strength from what you lose."

"West..." Prussia whimpered, his voice losing its control as his body spasmed.

Russia just continued. "But you do not have to die here, _Prussiyah_. No one wants you to disappear. So we are splitting the German Empire into east and west, which you have already done, _da?_" Gilbert's body twitched again and his mouth opened, letting a short cry free, but Ivan kept on. "Your brother, the western half, will be under the watchful eye of these three. The East will come under Soviet rule."

Prussia screamed, then, whether it was purposefully timed or fate had set it as the moment of his dissolution. Gilbird tried to tweet sympathy, but there was little chance the albino heard anything. He screamed, again, and again, and again. When it seemed he had no air to scream any longer, he still attempted to until his body shook horribly once more and then went limp.

Limp like a dead body.

"Piyo?" Gilbird tweeted into the silence, hopping along the leg of his unconscious master.

A hand touched his feathers, lightly stroking the top of his head, and Gilbird looked up to meet eyes with Arthur Kirkland, the United Kingdom. The nation whispered something to him, as if he knew that the awesome yellow chick would understand. "Stay with him, won't you?"

"Piyo!" Gilbird chirped back, ruffling his feathers as if the very question was insulting.

Of course he would stay with Gilbert. He would stay with Gilbert when no one else would. When everyone else had abandoned him, Gilbird would stay.

"_Forever."_

~!~

_Twenty years later, 1967_

~!~

They were sitting on a rooftop some distance away from the large Wall in the capital city. The wall that separated them from the rest of the world. Gilbird did not sit on his master this time but rather was chirping and hopping along the edges of the roof, trying to make his friend smile.

He missed the smile. He missed the grin. The real grin. Nowadays, Gilbert would only look and give a light-hearted half-smile, like it took too much effort for him to do any more than that small attempt.

When his hopping did nothing, Gilbird stopped and looked up at his master, noting the red scarf added to the new uniform. Gilbert always wore a uniform, no matter what group or country he represented. Prussia had been officially dissolved and Gilbert had been taken to Russia's house for the first couple years of his life under the Soviet Union. Twenty years later, though, he had been allowed out of the house, allowed to waste time in his little satellite state, a mere shell of his former glory.

It was a side of Prussia – Gilbert – that was never shown to anyone else. Only Gilbird saw him cry like he had cried after the dissolution. Only Gilbird heard the man's woes, his feelings of failure, for letting his precious Fritz down, for losing the great empire he had helped to create. Having so much, giving it all away, and then having the last little shreds of his livelihood ripped out from under him.

It was impossible to get a real smile out of him.

"One day, I'll climb it. No, one day, I'll break it down. You hear me, Gilbird? They can't keep me pinned back here forever." Gilbert was pepping himself up again. He would do this occasionally. He would write in his journals, play on the flute Ivan had found and forced him to play, and when he was alone with the awesome yellow chick, he would spout off everything he would do one day. Gilbird had heard it all before. Every day for the past twenty years.

One day...one day, it would all come true.

"I'll be awesome again. They can't keep the Awesome Prussia down! It doesn't matter what some piece of paper says – it doesn't _work_ like that."

He'd been saying that every day for twenty years, too. Lately, his voice would crack at the end of the statement, and he would shut his mouth, close in on himself, and remain quiet as he stared off at the horizon, as if he could see beyond the Berlin Wall.

No one else saw this side of Gilbert. No one else that the yellow chick knew of. It was reserved all for him. He was the only trustworthy one, the only one special enough to see all sides of the crazy albino. The many sides of Gilbert Beilschmdit. And he was the only one to stay by his side. The only one to love him through everything.

Because this companion relationship had grown. From friendship to something more. Gilbird loved his master. He wanted Prussia back; he wanted the grin, the jokes, the crazy antics, the conceited statements.

He wanted the awesome one back.

"We better get back," Gilbert suddenly said with a sigh, shifting positions to start climbing down from the roof. "Ivan will be pissed if I'm late again."

"_He'll live."_

A light chuckle left Gilbert's lips and then another sigh. "I don't want to push him right now. We're going to visit West soon; if I piss him off, he'll leave me behind again."

"_Ludwig will understand."_

Red eyes glanced over at him and then glanced away, pretending to focus on climbing. "Yeah. Well. I want to see him."

The unspoken need remained hidden in the air, but Gilbird caught it. Just as his master had gotten better at understanding him, Gilbird had gotten better at reading the albino. So much had changed.

At least there was one change that could be considered a good thing.

~!~

_1989..._

~!~

Gilbird flew around in circles above his master's head. There were people everywhere. Lots and lots of people. Ivan was nearby, but he was talking with Gilbert. Talking with Prussia – he started calling himself the awesome Prussia again as if a mental block had been overcome and he had insisted that he still existed no matter what anyone said. The red scarf came off, though the new uniform of the German Democratic Republic stayed, and Prussia was handing the scarf off to Ivan who looked a little upset but seemed to be standing by and accepting it.

Gilbird did not understand why things were going on; he simply knew Prussia was in a good mood. Prussia was excited again. He was happy. Anticipating something.

From his vantage point, the yellow chick could see people climbing the wall. Sitting on the edge. Waving at people on the other side. Jumping off or climbing down to meet relatives and friends on the other side. In some areas, people were breaking the wall while soldiers simply stood by and did nothing.

Landing on the wall, Gilbird kept an eye on his master. He watched as Prussia joined those tearing holes in the wall. A grin was on his face as he worked. Red eyes gleamed against the sun as he tore into the cement. Those around him seemed to gather his excitement and expand it, spreading the cheer throughout all the people, though it wasn't too difficult when so many had been separated from loved ones for so long.

Gilbert had been separated from his brother. His brother who he gave up everything for. His brother who had turned into a monster during the last war, had thrown Prussia to the side, had sucked out the last bit of Gilbert's nationhood to where Prussia was only saved by Russia's intervention. Still, Gilbert had loved Ludwig; he missed his brother more than anyone else beyond the wall. He was always worried, always wanting to check in on him.

And sometimes they did meet. Every rare once in a while when Ivan allowed it. Every time they met, it seemed that Ludwig had gotten stronger whereas Gilbert was staying weak. Ludwig had gained strength and grown healthy again whereas Gilbert remained sick and injured.

Even now, even as he tore into the cement blocks of the wall, Gilbert was carrying injuries and scars from his war wounds and from his time with Ivan. There was so much that he hid from everyone. So much he shared with no one else. So much he kept to himself.

The grin was back, though, and as the wall came down, it grew. Gilbird fluttered in the air again, circling around his master's head and landing in the hair only to be jostled out of his position when Prussia jumped across the remnants of the wall and was embraced by the younger, stronger brother. As Gilbird righted himself in the air, flapping loudly – though not near loud enough to be noticed by anyone – he caught his friend's laughter. True, loud, obnoxious laughter.

"Kesese~ West, are you crying?"

"_Gott, bruder, _I've waited for this day...for so long..."

"Kesese~ You sound like one of those romantic saps. Oh _Gott_, West, do you love me?"

And Ludwig added his own laughter to the mix. When Gilbird could see them, he saw that they were both embracing the other so tight it was a wonder they could still talk. It was a wonder Gilbert could still breathe. From here, the yellow chick could see the tears on Ludwig's face, but when he fluttered in circles he also saw tears coming from Prussia's eyes. As an animal companion, Gilbird could feel the large emotional impact.

So long of being apart. Two brothers. Separated by the world. Now finally together again.

Ludwig, being stronger and healthier, easily pulled Prussia back and forced the grinning albino to look at him, placing both hands on either side of the pale face. Now Germany could see the tears, too, but he said not a word about them. No, he merely said. "As a brother, I do, and I have missed you so much." Eyes seemed to be searching, studying, and stronger hands started to roam the older brother's body, frowning as he did so. "Are you well?"

Prussia snorted and made motions with his hands as if he were trying to push Germany back. "Damn it, West, worry about that shit later, won't you?" Pale hands reached up and forced their foreheads to touch, red eyes staring straight into blue. "I'm alive. I'm here. And I'm not disappearing."

"_Too awesome to disappear."_

Gilbird's comment as he finally managed to find a roost in the white hair caused Prussia to crack up with his absurd laughter once more. And the two brothers embraced once more, as if trying to make up for all the time away from each other. All those years.

Separated by a wall, and now the wall came down around them as their scene in the rubble was repeated countless times over by their people reuniting. It was a momentous time. For all of the German people.

And Prussia was still here. The last remnant of his nation finally merging with Germany, but he was still here. Still alive. Still present. And still...

"Hey, West, we should get some coffee. I heard you actually have some over here."

Still as random as ever.

~!~

_Now, in 2009_

~!~

Gilbird followed Prussia to many places and did many fun and interesting things throughout the years. He chirped as Prussia explored the new internet, quickly finding that surfing the web had become a favorite past time of the ex-nation. Over time, they visited more and more websites, unearthing pictures and rumors, blogs and stories, secret documents and not-so-secret discoveries about the other nations. For everyone soon became enraptured about the internet.

Of course, Gilbert was not always on the computer. His brother would kick him out of the house on cleaning days and Prussia wound wander around, living a freer life than any nation could. He had no real responsibilities, though he offered to help Ludwig if a time ever called for his aid.

Gilbird found that they visited Austria a lot. Which was strange. Didn't Prussia hate Austria all those years ago? Then again, whenever Gilbert was in Roderich's house it was to mess with him, to annoy and play pranks on him, like an old grudge he couldn't let go. Except there would be serious moments, too. Moments when he and Austria would sit and reminisce about older times, better days of the past. Nostalgia would run rampart and Gilbird would just tweet along, correcting Prussia when necessary. It was almost surprising how well the two could get along nowadays, but the yellow chick had to remember...

Austria had lost an empire, too.

Hungary would be visited, too. She was officially divorced from Austria, but the three would still enjoy each other's company from time to time. When Prussia wasn't being a prankster and hooligan. When Hungary wasn't chasing him through the streets, waving her skillet and demanding he apologize for the way he had treated either her or Austria. And Prussia would just laugh as he ran, calling her crazy even as he longed for the past.

Any outing always meant a few hours with Fritz, too. A visit to the old palaces, the old mansions where kings lived. A visit to the gravestone in Sanssouci. A whispered word once again longing for the past before heading back home to Germany's clean house.

Other times, Prussia would visit other friends. A visit to Spain and France would involve bar hopping, getting drunk, partying, or any number of crazy antics that would get them in trouble with nation leaders – and Ludwig, who would have to pick up the pieces. Of course, talks with Francis on the balconies of France's house could also be intimate, for both had loved a human from their nation. Even with their back and forth bloody past, the two often found comfort in each other dealing with a loss no one else could understand.

The little flirtations with Italy were just to be cute, seeing as Ludwig was already caught around the Italian's little finger. A shouting match with Romano was common, though there was a strange mutual understanding and respect between the two. The brothers who had been forgotten by time or looked over by the rest of the world.

England did not like visits, except when it came to trying his food. Prussia had managed to get through the Englishman's cooking and he carried it around like a badge of honor, much to Arthur's dismay. America thought it hilarious, though, and often invited Prussia over to battle in video games and eat real American style cooking, which was never as good as Alfred thought it was, seeing as it was a strange conglomeration of other ethnic groups – or just hamburgers.

Canada was quiet and Prussia had fun at the man's house, especially enjoying the maple syrup that Matthew introduced him to. Gilbird loved the pancake breakfasts at any hour, too. He would circle their heads as Prussia fought with the polar bear, and he would chirp curiously at the looks Canada would toss to the albino when he thought no one was looking.

Still, there were other people to visit. It was a surprise when Prussia willingly went to Russia's house. A surprise to everyone, including Gilbird. But the albino seemed intent on poking everyone he had met and known in his life – as well as those he hadn't met yet. When the Soviet Union crumbled, Prussia had cheered and laughed and commented that of course no one would want to be a family with Russia unless the nation forced it.

...but then years later, he visited Russia alone. As Gilbird hovered, he knew there was much between them. Hatred among other things. But they shook hands. Had a dinner. Prussia stuck his tongue out at Belarus and ran from her knife as fast as he ran from Hungary's skillet.

A quick hop and he said hello to China, trying to convince the old nation to show off the dragon they all knew China was hiding. Of course, it never amounted to anything. China did not like visits from the albino and quickly chased the ex-nation out of his house.

Japan was more willing to accept his visits. Always willing to learn what he could about Prussia's past. Japan was always thirsty for more knowledge, and he loved hearing Gilbert's stories of his days with Fritz, though Japan never did get all the good or all the correct points. Gilbird would have to peep up with the real way things happened, but of course Prussia never shared those truths with Japan.

Still...it was good for Prussia to have someone interested in him, even if only for the historical value. A lot of nations and people these days seemed to have forgotten about the ex-nation. Most schools didn't even teach Prussian history, simply considering him a part of Germany instead of confusing younger minds.

There was the fear, in Gilbird's mind, as Prussia would travel by airplane or train or bus or simply walk home alone – would Gilbert be able to keep living in this strange existence forever? Nations without a nation were supposed to disappear. He was supposed to leave them. Supposed to. Meant to.

And still Prussia defied the rules of existence. As far as everyone knew, Prussia would stay alive forever.

But on those trips home, Gilbird would hear the truth. The long road trips and strange visits were for a reason. The Awesome Prussia could feel himself slipping away. Slowly. Day by day something new would leave his memory. He was remembering less and less. It was like everything he had experienced was slowly being taken from him. As the world forgot, so did he.

Sooner or later, there would be nothing left.

But no matter what happened, Gilbird would stay by his side. As he had promised.

"_Forever_."

~!~ END ~!~

_A/N: Oh boy, wow. Yeah, yeah, there's historical references, and there's historical made-up moments, and there's I-just-kind-of-took-this-somewhere. But for the most part, it's as accurate as I could manage. I worked on a piece at a time any chance I had, really. Anyway, this is for my sister. Happy Birthday / Graduation / Gift-Fic for 50__th__ reviewer on One Season. Yeah. That's why you get 12,000 words in a one-shot. Ho shit. Historical fiction is so much fun but involves so much research it's stupid – and I'm pretty sure that's not even GOOD research. Ah well. Points for trying? _

**Historical Notes:**

-Bah hum bug there's a lot and I'm stretching and going off of just little bits of information, so roll with me, eh?

-1190: Teutonic Knights considered to be founded as "The Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem." According to Hetalia canon, this is the start of Prussia, but he does not call himself Prussia as of yet. So I worked in that little "not technically a nation yet but I will be one day!"

-1211: There's a Hetalia clip for this - "I defended Hungary's house, yes I did" where the Teutonic Knights aided Hungary in fighting off the Cumans in Burzenland? Something like that...anyway, this is a little silly comedic sketch with Gilbird that I've worked into this time period.

-1242: Battle on the Ice – Prussia (Teutonic Knights) and Russia fight – on ice – and Prussia nearly drowns and...this scene is actually in Hetalia now, too, as part of the new "Beautiful World" season.

-1410: Battle of Tannenberg – where Poland and Lithuania gang up and basically beat up Prussia (Teutonic Knights, once again). I added something in here that's definitely not historically accurate, BUT it happened in the story so, yes, this is where I now believe Prussia got his nation name. Because, freaking honestly, there's no easy date to say "hey, that's now Prussia," at least not insofar as I can find. Please, enlighten me if you know. (As in: when the Prussia in Hetalia becomes Prussia)

-1740: Prussia and Fritz and Gilbird. Because my sister loves Frederick the Great, I love pairing him with Prussia, and Gilbird makes everything hilarious anyway

-1762: Seven Years War, Russia troops were occupying Berlin, but when Elizabeth died and Tsar Peter III ascended the throne in Russia, there was a flip seeing as Peter greatly admired Fritz; this scene is totally romanticized just to show Prussia not trusting the Russian whereas Fritz is overjoyed to have this treaty – and Gilbird is just his little observer self. This also brings in a headcanon where nations – at least back then – would made alliances stronger by having a little romp under the haystack, so to speak. Much like the winner of decisive battles, all it takes is one request and the other nation can be easily roped into agreeing, for the sake of their nation.

-1871: Otto von Bismarck unifies Germany; this is symbolic and AU-ish, and I'd just be lucky as hell if Bismarck is actually portrayed correctly or the random hillside looking down on shit actually happened... Yeah, this is very much so just a symbolic rip off of a certain Disney movie – but I couldn't _help_ it. I stole a quote from Bismarck to throw in here. Ah, I both love and hate this segment. Writing from Gilbird's point of view really cuts out a lot of the inner worries I want to express in this scene, but I can't cause it's from the bird's eyes. Hah. Oh well. Maybe one day, I'll explore this from a different angle.

-1941: Prussia and World War II – I actually thought long on this one. What came out? Well, Prussia not liking where Germany is taking the Empire, and getting kind of upset at the planning going on behind his back. Early in this year, the Blitz was still going on, and Hitler was making plans for Operation Barbarossa to attack the Soviet Union. Prussia is not happy in the least.

-1947: Law 46 – ah yes, the infamous Law 46, well infamous in Prussian fanfics anyway; I always see this scene portrayed in dark, cell-like situations and, well, I wanted to do something different. Why? Because bad things happen on nice days, too, in otherwise normal places. Besides, I just did something with vague setting and dark undertones. I decided to go different.

-1960s: Berlin Wall, Prussia representing East Germany here but not the whole "stuck in Russia's basement" scene. Merely Prussia sitting on a rooftop looking out at the wall and telling Gilbird all the things he's going to do, how he's still awesome, etc, basically Gilbert coping with all the shit he has to deal with at this point in time.

-1989: Berlin wall comes down and the brother's reunite – yay! Also, brotherly love. Read what you want to in it, but I tried not to force pairings at any point. So there. Also, the coffee comment isn't completely random. I have sources that say East Germans loved coffee but coffee was hard to come by in East Germany because Russia and most of the USSR preferred tea. The wall comes down and coffee sales shoot up in Germany, so, yeah, the comment isn't completely random. Just saying. ;)

-2009: Just a quick sketch of Prussia and Gilbird visiting several of the nations (note: not all – no way am I going to do all, sorry). This is where I put stuff with Austria, because I noticed at this point that I was writing Prussian-history-in-a-nut-shell and oops forgot to put anything with Austria, which is terrible for several reasons. Anyway, he's visiting everyone, and why? Because he's feeling like he's going to be disappearing at any moment. His memories are getting harder and harder to drag up; it's like he's getting Alzheimer's for nations, which is sad really. I attribute it to something my sister and I can relate to (since this is for her) – not learning _anything_ about Prussia in school. It's like he doesn't even exist. Or like the world is trying to convince themselves he never did exist. Hence, Prussia is slowly dying. Ah, sad. Moral of the story? Go learn about Prussia guys! I find his history _incredibly_ interesting. Not to mention how the Prussian motto was "to each his own." Yeah, really. Awesome.

~_I appreciate all reviews/alerts/favorites; thank you and I hope you enjoyed~~_

_~Reda_


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